


Guys Love Guinness

by Arwyn



Category: due South
Genre: (ahem), Blushing, Embarrassment, First Time, M/M, Sex Toys, So much blushing, like are their brains even working anymore all the blood is elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwyn/pseuds/Arwyn
Summary: It just couldn't be what it looked like, no way. Ray swallowed, then carefully -- hey it could be a bomb, I mean, it wasn't, it couldn't be... -- slid his finger in the... opening. Soft, yielding, a bit loose around a single finger, but would be just-right tight around --





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophrosynic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophrosynic/gifts).



> Sophrosynic my dear, I know this isn't quite what you asked for, and isn't quite what I'd set out to write for you, but I hope you enjoy it regardless, and know that all the cheer and goodwill and cheek flooding squee worthy joy is what is wished for you with this gift.

Ray wasn't expecting to find a beer can in a footlocker, of all places. He especially wasn't expecting to find it in _Fraser's_ foot locker, because hey! Fraser! Not so much a drinker. But he picked it up and... what the hell?, no way that was an actual can of the stout it said it was. He shook it a bit; too light for beer, looked like a seam where it could open. Was this like the nuts, were a bunch of snakes gonna pop out when he --

"What the _fuck_..." He barely breathed it out, but still whipped his head up in case anyone heard. He glanced up at Fraser's office door, the closet, the window. Held his breath for a second, listening -- but no, no one coming down the hall, Fraser must still be in conference doing whatever the hell it was they did in this part of Canada surrounded by Chicago. No one was coming to investigate.

Which meant _Ray_ was free to investigate. It just _couldn't_ be what it looked like, no way. Ray swallowed, then carefully -- hey it could be a bomb, I mean, it wasn't, it couldn't be... -- slid his finger in the... opening. Soft, yielding, a bit loose around a single finger, but would be just-right tight around --

"Fuck!" Ray yanked his finger out like it was burning -- Christ, he almost wish it _was_ , wished there HAD been a bomb, and not just a bit damp from being _washed_ , because it wasn't new, because Fraser had... Fraser must've...

Ray shoved the lid back on -- he fumbled twice before getting it lined back up so it looked pretty much as much like a beer can as it had when he found it -- stuffed it back in the foot locker, and slammed the door shut, practically giving himself whiplash jerking his head up when he heard footsteps in the hallway.

"--simply discount the effects of neo-Malthusianism because it's inconvenient. Well, you would say that, and I'm sure the Ding Dong population of Chicago cowers before you." Ray jammed his hands in his armpits, then yanked them out and jumped up as Fraser and Dief came in the room.

"Ray, we--"

"Come on, Fraser, took you long enough, thought I was gonna get hypothermia sitting in Canada so long, you got a door straight to the Arctic in there or is it just the Ice Queen's presence, come on, I'm not getting any younger or prettier, let's go!"

And somehow, Ray made it past Fraser (mouth hanging open, never did finish his sentence), down the hall, past Turnbull, and out to the car, babbling who the fuck knows what, without ever once letting himself think about the fact that -- holy shit, holy _shit_ \-- Fraser had a _fleshlight!_

*****

A buddy wouldn’t bring it up. A buddy would forget he ever saw it, or maybe would rib the other guy about it whenever he got the chance, like _'What, couldn’t find the real thing, huh, Benny?'_

Ray shuddered.

Guess he wasn’t much of a buddy, because Ray -- he realized, as he realized what he’d just broken the silence of a perfectly good quiet stakeout with -- no, he had to go and prove he _couldn’t not_ bring it up.

Fraser was staring at him, he was pretty sure; Ray didn’t know, he’d squeezed his eyes shut as soon as his ears had picked up what his mouth had let loose.

Too bad he couldn’t shut his damn ears. Or die. Maybe his face would actually catch on fire, and take him with it. Spontaneous human combustion from embarrassment, why not.

“I -- excuse me?”

Ray was pretty sure his head would break before the steering wheel did; maybe he could beat himself to death instead of answering. The crap Chevys from the motor pool would definitely give before his skull would. Good old Pontiac; didn’t make ‘em like they used to.

“-ay. Ray. Ray. Ray!”

Fraser’s hand on his shoulder stopped him before Ray even knew he was gonna pull back and test it out. How the hell did the guy do that?

“Ray, if you concuss yourself, I won’t have the authority to enact a proper arrest should Mr Harper make an appearance. Certainly I could apprehend him, but after the debacle last time that resulted from my accidental use of the Brydges Caution instead of the more standard American Miranda warning -- despite their near identical intent and content -- we had agreed it best for you to perform the act of the arrest itself.” Fraser scratched his eyebrow, then added. “Also, I’d have to take you to hospital.”

Ray’d leaned back during Fraser’s speech -- he wasn’t ever sure whether his disbelief or embarrassment by association was worse when Fraser pulled out a thing like that, but either way, worries about his own uncoolness always faded in front of it -- and they both stared at each other. Emotional chicken: who was gonna break and bring up the awkwardness first?

Ray? He was way too chicken to duck first.

_Bawk._

Fraser cleared his throat -- shit, even _that_ was uncool, how did Fraser make it down here? -- and said, “Do I understand that you were asking about, ah, my personal effects?”

“ _Personal effects, personal effec_ \-- You mean your private shit, yeah. That wasn’t a beer can, Fraser.”

Fraser’s face was trying hard as hell to match his usual uniform, but Fraser didn’t break eye contact. “And what, if I may, were you doing exploring my, ah, private shit? The pertinent word, of course, being _private_.”

“What, you never dug through a buddy’s medicine cabinet? You got a medicine foot locker, that’s all, except that’s not a medicine I’ve ever heard of.”

Fraser still wasn’t looking away, and now had that damn know it all look, and Ray’d bet his car the next words out of Fraser’s mouth were gonna be --

“Actually, Ray,” bingo! “the effects of… sexual release… _are_ considered medicinal in many cultures. In fact --”

“Oh no, uh uh, you already bridge cautioned and actually Ray’d me, I do not gotta put up with an in fact at this, uh, juncture. The only fact _pertinent_ here, Fraser, is that you got a sex toy in your office!”

Damn, Ray hated when Fraser’s eye crinkled like that. Made him feel like a, an insect or something. He wanted to squirm -- chirp chirp! -- but he _knew_ he was in the right here, he _knew_ it, and he wasn’t gonna give Fraser any inch more than Fraser’d earned.

Fraser slid his tongue inside his lower lip -- geez, even the guy’s tongue was freakish. “Well, yes. Don’t you?”

“What the -- no! No, I do not, Fraser, that is not a thing normal guys have in their --”

“Well, not in your office, obviously, but I imagine perhaps your bedroom. You have a nightstand with drawers, if I recall.”

Fraser in his bedroom -- Fraser _imagining_ Ray in his bedroom -- Fraser imagining Ray having a _fleshlight_ in his --

“No! No, I do not! I mean, the drawers, yeah, but, no!”

Fraser sat back, barely glancing at Harper’s doorway before focusing on Ray again. “Why not?”

“What? Normal guys do not need a, a can shaped like a beer shaped like a --”

Fraser winced. Hah!

“--normal guys, and I know you do not get this, Fraser my friend, because you are the Santa Claus of freaks, you are the King in painfully red armor of the abnormal, but normal guys go out and find a real pus-, er, girl, woman! With a real, live -- normal guys don’t use a _can_ , Fraser!”

Again with the tongue, dammit.

Ray shifted, jerking his hand back up to the wheel because no, no way was he gonna adjust himself at this juncture.

Fraser kept staring at him, then blinked, Mountie mask suddenly on and up to 11 as he peered out the windshield, looked behind himself out the window, even craned his head into the backseat. What the hell?

Finally, he looked back at Ray. “And you, of course, are _overflowing_ with opportunities to find a real woman, with a real, live…”

Fraser quirked his brows then, and that was not cool, that was not buddies.

Ray glared. “I do okay.”

Fraser’s brows both shot up, and Ray was gonna kill him, just reach over and --

“Do you indeed? And, ah, when does this ‘okay’ doing happen, perchance?”

“Hey, okay, so it’s a slow streak, it’s har-- it’s, uh, difficult, y’know, with the job, and the, uh --”

“Stakeouts?”

“Yeah, yeah, and I get home sometimes, and I’m too tired to wanna go out, y’know, with the talking and the smiling and --”

“And sometimes it’s easier to just… stay home.”

“Right, right!”

Fraser nodded, once, firmly, as though they were agreeing here, as though they were the _same_. “Exactly. So you understand.”

“Righ -- what? No!”

Fraser hummed and -- finally! -- turned back to the, uh… whatever they were supposed to be watching, Fraser’d remember, and so would Ray, just give him a sec.

Man, of all the weird conversations they’d had, that had to be the weirdest. That was weirder than the one about otters -- wereotters, where did Fraser get that crap? -- and even the one with the goalie and the --

“Have you ever tried one, Ray?”

Fraser was still staring out the windshield, like they were back at work, like he was asking about whether Ray’d finished the Sommers paperwork yet (crap, Frannie was gonna kill him, Frannie was gonna sic Welsh on him, he had to get it done tomorrow, first thing -- okay, second thing), like he wasn’t asking about _Ray’s sex life_.

“No! No, Fraser, I have _not_.”

“It’s only, I find it suits the purpose you described -- those moments when one is too… energetic from an exciting day at work, yet, for whatever reason, undesiring of going out again to seek… company -- it fits those moments… admirably. You might find it so as well, were you to try it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Fraser sat up suddenly. “Ah. Ready, Ray?”

What? Ready for -- oh shit, there the appleknocker was.

Ray nodded, and they shoved open their doors. Ray was ready to kick some criminal ass, you betcha.

*****

Fraser was holding a plastic bag, loosely, the handles tight together like Chinese take-out.

“Before I forget, this is for you.”

Ray stared at Fraser a minute, then glanced at the clock -- it wasn’t lunch, or dinner, it was just work, okay it was the best time of work, the time Fraser usually showed up, but still: birthday, no, Canadian Thanksgiving? nah, that was last month, well, one way to find out --

Fraser’s hand was warm on his, dry, and Ray stopped, fingers digging into the plastic knot but not pulling it apart. He could see Fraser’s arm lift -- what was with the guy’s eyebrows anyway? didn’t they have anti-itch cream in the Yukon? -- but didn’t lift his eyes from where their hands rested together on the bag. “You, ah. You might want to wait until you get home.”

Ray frowned, thinking. A case, maybe? Something Fraser didn’t want to share with the CPD? They’d worked that kind of thing before, maybe --

Fraser added, “Until you have a certain level of… privacy.”

Ray nearly dropped the bag. Fraser, freakish reflexed bastard, caught it, and set it on Ray’s desk, checking the knotted handle before looking back. “Ray?”

Ray jerked away, shit, talk about uncool. His mind babbled at him, halfway to a full on freak out, but something flew past about a guy who still played with toys being cooler about this than he was, and he barked a laugh. Okay, he could do this, he could show Fraser how it was done.

“Right, yeah, ‘course. Uh. Let me just… toss that in the, uh…”

Crap, he can’t leave it in his desk, anywhere in the station was right out --

“Car?”

“-- car! And we’ll go, uh…”

“Interview Mrs Skanelli?”

“Right, yeah, come on Fraser, what’re you waiting for, the Queen’s permission? Let’s go!”

And he didn’t think about what he was carrying, what he tossed in his trunk, what he was driving around with, what _Fraser had given him_ , because he was cool with it, cooler than the dumb Ice Boy over there, that’s for sure. He’d prove it, see if he wouldn’t.

*****

Ray didn’t think about the package when he got home, just tossed it on the counter with the rest of his crap. He didn’t think about it when making dinner, or when eating dinner, feet up on the coffee table, basketball on the tube. He didn’t think about it when tossing his plate in the sink, and he didn’t think about it when locking up his piece (safety on, bullets out, safe locked), and he didn’t think about it when pissing, or brushing his teeth, or tossing his teeshirt (but not, after he sniffed and shrugged, his jeans) in the hamper.

He stood for a moment, tighty whiteys on, lights mostly off, and stared at his bed. _Fuck it_.

He went out to the kitchen, grabbed the bag, dropped his underwear, and dived under the covers, plastic crinkling, half afraid his mum was gonna hear all the way up in Skokie, half hard even from _this_.

This… gift. This loan? Shit. This wasn’t new. This was… this was _really really dumb_ is what it was, there couldn’t be a way to sterilize these things, but -- this was Fraser, right? He wouldn’t’ve given something to Ray if it wasn’t safe.

Toss him off a building, sure. But he wouldn’t…

Of course, Ray would’ve sworn Fraser’d never give him this, either.

Okay, he wasn’t just half hard anymore, and there was no way he was turning back now.

He tore open the plastic bag and dropped it over the side of the bed; unrolled the newspaper and dropped it over, too, as he stared at the objects that had fallen in his lap. Two? Jesus, that was lube, that was an _open bottle of lube_ , that was lube that _Fraser_  had --

Ray groaned, shot his hand under the sheet and pinched his dick, tight.

This was going to kill him.

Right, yeah, lube, okay. Gotta get the slide from somewhere, and sure he was leaking like anything -- he softened his fingers, let them collect the fluid dripping down the head, rubbed it in right there, yeah, oh yeah -- but that wasn’t ever enough, not on its own, not even with --

Not thinking about her.

Lube, cock, can. He could figure this out. If Fraser could do it…

*****

Ray panted, slick everywhere with sweat and _stuff_ , gross and slimy and satisfied in ways he hadn't been in… years. Too many fucking years.

Okay. So maybe Fraser wasn't completely wrong on this.

*****

Ray hadn't been sure whether to curse or thank Fraser for dropping it off on a Wednesday. Upside: he wouldn't have to face the guy over Saturday lunch or Sunday laundry. Downside: he had to see him at _work_. It'd seemed like a great idea at the time, but now…

Couldn't there be, oh, one purse-snatcher on the street? A spot of arson, maybe? A jaywalker?? But no, he'd been stuck in traffic -- "stop and go", hah! where was the go then, huh? -- with Fraser by his side for ten minutes already, and the whole of Chicago seemed to have been replaced with Toronto or Ontario or one of them perfectly clean and crimeless Canadian cities. And any minute, Fraser was going to bring it up, Ray just knew it, he was going to stop staring at the scenery (ten minutes it had been the same freakishly average, uninteresting hotdog vendor, nothing to see there) and open his mouth and --

"You seem excessively… twitchy, this morning, Ray, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Yeah, well, maybe I do mind, maybe I do, you think about that? You ever stop to think maybe--"

"Ray, if you're uninterested in the experience--"

"--a person just wants to go about his day without being interrogated by his partner, his partner with personal effects he can't keep to himself, maybe a guy--"

"--or feel uncomfortable engaging in such intimacies by proxy--"

"--just wants to do his job without having to think about things that he maybe does and maybe doesn't have in common with his partner okay, maybe--"

Lips. Soft, smooth, urgent lips. Holy shit, Fraser was kissing him!

HONK! HONK HONNNNNNNNK!

Shit, right, clutch, gear, lurch forward ten feet, brake, clutch, neutral.

Fraser was back to staring out the window.

Ray was back to going out of his freaking mind.

"What --" He cleared his throat; it hadn't cracked since he was seventeen, and he wasn't about to have it do it again now. "What was that, Fraser."

Fraser turned his head back from the -- florist? -- and his face was trying to match his uniform; red, trying to be authoritative, somehow both sexy and absurd.

"An… overture."

"That wasn't any kind of music I heard of."

"You were babbling."

"I was _talking!_ "

"There was a definite sideways drift both to your words and the steering wheel, and--"

"And you kissed me!"

"Ah… yes."

Back in gear, little clutch, little gas, inch forward...

Okay.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, we already shared --"

Brake!

"Shared… what?"

"What what, you know what!"

"Shared -- ah! You mean. Oh! I see."

Fraser's turn to clear his throat.

"Yeah. So, uh. I mean. I mean you're right, okay, on this, just this!, you're maybe, uh, I mean you're definitely --"

  
"You were right."

Clutch, gas, BRAKES, where the hell did that bicycle come from, get a motor! Wait--

"I was what?"

"I was… thinking, last night. Of the… inadequacies. Of… substitutes. For, ah--"

"A partner?"

Fraser hadn't looked that warm at anything since the last time he saw a pile of snow. Ray tried not to squirm.

"Just so."

"So, uh." Okay, that was a squirm, he couldn't help it, that was… yeah, he and Fraser and Santa Claus and that red light up there, they all matched now.

The light -- finally! -- turned green.

"So maybe we should, after work, after the thing after work, I mean, maybe we could, y'know… compare? For, uh."

"Science?"

"Yeah."

Okay, that wasn't a place Ray wanted a pause that long. They were cruising along now, but Ray risked another look. Fraser was looking right at him, face open, eyes crinkled, and man, Ray could get lost in that face.

"I can think of nothing I would like better."

Okay! Okay. Ray revved the engine, RPMs all the way to red, and Fraser just sat beside him and smiled.

*****

**A Prologue**

 

Jack and Dewey were at it again, which was more than motivation enough to get up and get the next round. Beers for Jack, Elaine, and the boss, Zima for Dewey (yech!), wine for Frannie… he slapped Fraser on the shoulder.

"'Nother root beer, buddy?"

He turned, already anticipating the nod, but --

"Hmm, yeah, thank you kindly. I find I'm not that interested anymore in… Guinness."

Ray turned his trip into a two-step, and grinned all the way to the bar, face blazing. Yeah, it was gonna be a good night.

**Author's Note:**

> The author does not endorse sharing sex toys outside of a relationship that is already tested, fully talked through, and agreed upon to share fluids.  
> The author does NOT endorse any conflation between moral fortitude and STI status.  
> The author does endorse smooching in stop and go traffic.
> 
> (Carefully.)


End file.
